


Worship

by Hot_Mild_Sweet_n_Salty



Series: ShikaSaku Hanami 2020 [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I think?, LITERALLY, Romance, Sakura is a god, idk what else to tag this, shikamaru doesnt believe in gods, slow burn?, then he meets her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23419630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_Mild_Sweet_n_Salty/pseuds/Hot_Mild_Sweet_n_Salty
Summary: “And if an old god were to drop at your feet?”“Well who would be worthy of worship in that moment? A god nobody remembered, dropped to his knees, or the man to which he bowed?”Hidden Prompt Five- Kiss the Night on her Lips
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Nara Shikamaru
Series: ShikaSaku Hanami 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678945
Comments: 3
Kudos: 86
Collections: ShikaSaku Hanami 2020





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

> hello all! I really enjoyed writing this one-the words just flowed out of me. I decided to use the hidden prompt for this one rather than the main one (Kiss the night on her lips). I really love how it turned out, and I hope you do too!

Shikamaru never believed in gods. He was too analytical for that—he wouldn’t ever believe in something he couldn’t see or feel. His friends would insist on anything and everything paranormal so they could try and ‘change his heretical ways,’ but they could never get him to believe. 

He never thought he would change his mind on something he was so adamant on his entire life—it was too late for him to change without people (Ino) talking shit for the rest of his life. But that changed when his new neighbor moved in. 

Simply put, there was no way she was human, not a normal one. There was something about her that was just… ethereal. The way she moved with a grace akin to clouds floating across the sky. The way her eyes danced with the spirit of an old soul that had seen the birth of planets and the death of stars. The way her words carried more meaning than what came out.

They spoke at dawn, every morning. Shikamaru didn’t like having to get up so early before, but one day while he stood on the balcony, enjoying his morning cigarette and cup of coffee, a lilting voice sounded from the other side. 

“Those will kill you one day.” Her words were soft, and when he turned to look at her, his retort caught in his throat at the genuinely worried shine in her eyes. 

“I know,” he choked out. 

She never seemed to sleep. He could usually hear her puttering about when he was home, the sound of her humming some song or scrubbing a pan or flipping the page of a book. He found that he never minded the sound. He found it rather comforting. It was like there was a warm blanket had settled over his entire apartment. 

He asked her one day—“What’s your story?” He didn’t really know what he had meant by that. It was dawn, and he was nursing a coffee (he would deny that his cutback on nicotine was because of his neighbor). The rising sun glinted off her pinkish hair, highlighted the proud bridge of her nose and the softness of her lower lip. She stared off as she thought, rocking back on her heels and caressing the leaves on one of her porch plants. 

“The world moved on. I had to follow, or risk being left behind in history.” He furrowed his brow at her answer, confused. She kissed the plant, put it down gently, and went into her apartment. 

Shikamaru didn’t hear a peep from her before he left for work, nor after he got home. The next morning, she was humming as usual, and back out on the balcony. They didn’t address the odd conversation from before. 

Shikamaru filed it away under “old god.” 

Six months into her stay at the apartment complex, Sakura knocked on Shikamaru’s door, a heavy aura weighing down on her shoulders. Shikamaru invited her in and fed her a simple chicken curry, letting her wash it down with the expansive sake that was gifted to him by his mother when he moved out of her house. 

She still didn’t sleep. Instead, she sang softly in a language he had never heard (he was certain it was some kind of dead language, but she ignored his questions when he asked what she was singing) and lovingly cuddling the cat (the very same cat that he only took care of because Ino couldn’t have cats in her apartment—it hated him). 

After that, they had dinner together once a week, just a night to pretend the world didn’t exist. They talked about anything and everything—politics, philosophy, gardening. One day, Sakura asks “do you believe?”

“No,” Shikamaru responded. He didn’t know how to tell her he was certain she was some kind of goddess from the days before the Earth. Her face fell for a moment before it smoothed over carefully. Her eyes swirled with a universe as she stared into his soul.

“Why?” He shrugged. 

“The old gods are dead. The new ones aren’t anything but man. I won’t worship something that I can’t touch, something I can’t see.” She leaned in close, closer than she ever had before. He could feel her wine-drunk lips brushing against his ear, her arm warm on his shoulder. 

“And if an old god were to drop at your feet?” He shivered.

“Well who would be worthy of worship in that moment? A god nobody remembered, dropped to his knees, or the man to which he bowed?” Sakura laughed, flopping back on his couch. Shikamaru shifted, hoping the alcohol would hide the burning in his cheeks. 

The first time Shikamaru was invited into Sakura’s apartment, he didn’t know what to think. The perimeter was covered in vining plants and golden lights. The hardwood floor covered with a large, soft rug. Piles of pillows filled any space one would expect a couch or chair to be. 

There wasn’t a single TV anywhere, instead the walls were covered with bookshelves. He scanned the books, humming with interest. 

Psychology. Theology. Philosophy. History. Language.

There was something for every part of the world, and her ancient poetry collection was astounding. He wondered how long it took her to collect all those books—some of them looked older than he was. 

She asked him again. “Do you believe?” He didn’t answer.

“Do you believe?” A shrug. 

“Do you believe” A drunken eye roll.

“Do you believe?” A sigh.

“Sometimes, I wish I did.”

“Do you believe?”

“How do you feel about old gods?” Sakura froze when he responded with that question, her eyes widening. She sat back, fidgeting her hands.

“They wait.” She stopped asking him after that.

Shikamaru couldn’t deny it anymore. Sakura… she was a goddess, even if she was an earthbound one. He blood was golden, her eyes home to mini galaxies. Her lips breathed life into everything she deigned worthy. 

He asked her “Do you believe?” She smiled, brushing a strand of his hair back.

“I have to. Gods can’t exist without people to keep them alive. They wither away, like a plant without water.” He nodded, distracted with the insence smoke across the room. 

She asked him again one day, months and months and months after the last time—“Do you believe?” 

He stood and approached her, eyes locked on hers. 

“How could I not believe in something sitting right in front of me.” 

She smiled and kissed him. He wondered if the night sky tasted the same as her lips.


End file.
